I stink of
gasoline,
and sweat
from hard
work, and
depression
from being
too smart
for my own
good

I look like
the down-
trodden, the
mangled
and
the chosen

hearing my voice
is torture to my
ears but entertaining
to others

I do not move
or sit still

I stink with my
existence,
long over-do a
checking in
with
reality